Although outwardly quiet, the atmosphere in the courtroom that day spoke volumes. There was a laser-like quality to the deafening but expectant silence. The focus was on me and of course on my client. It was the time in the trial for closing arguments to be given to the jury, the time most lawyers theorize is the most important time in the trial. All of the evidence had been heard over the past five days but we lawyers think that what we have to say in summing up the case is important; that by our polished, persuasive oratory we will turn the tide, explain away the unexplainable. Somehow, in this our last chance to appeal to the men and women who will do their civic duty, we must make them understand the importance and rightness of our side of the case, and finally convince them to find in our favor. Closing arguments, to trial lawyers, are the capstone of their vocation. Along with that comes the gnawing fear of "Oh my God, don't let anything go wrong".

My client was in his early 20s, just a kid, but a kid with a powerful motorbike, who tangled with the defendant's motor home and lost. He was moderately injured, but remembered nothing of the accident due to head trauma. To compensate for the memory loss, we had actually taken the jury to the scene of the accident, to watch cars merging onto the alternate roadway, where the nasty spill took place. After a grueling 6-day trial, the case was close; it could go either way. It was on me now, and on how the jury perceived my client. I arose to address the jury.

I began spoon- feeding the jury with the facts that had been uncovered at trial, the slanted view of the facts most favorable to my client. Presenting the case consisted of putting together all the pieces so they could spell nothing except that my client was taking a leisurely spin on his cycle, the defendant made a lane change, didn't look, never saw my guy's motorcycle, ran into him, and thus caused the accident and injuries. I was building to my crescendo.

In a jury trial, the jury must like your client, in order to find it in their evil hearts to award him more money than they would earn in several years of hard work. I wanted the jury to like my client. I wanted to win. I began to extol his virtues before the jury. How he was a law abiding, forthright, nice, temperate young man who had been grievously wronged by the inattentive old man driving the home on wheels. And I wanted the jury to see my client once more. I turned to my right,

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